


So I was a sort of supervillain as a kid, but now I'm in a band with you three, and you're my first friends, and I don't want to fuck any of this up.

by woa



Series: I’m a reformed supervillain and you’re the first friend I’ve ever made and oh god please don’t let me fuck this up. [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Superpowers, au superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woa/pseuds/woa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m a reformed supervillain and you’re the first friend I’ve ever made and oh god please don’t let me fuck this up. prompt on tumblr with Joe as the supervillain and yeah...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Joe could remember the day his mom died.

It was in a hospital and she was surrounded by wires and machines.

She had been slowly fading away for months before hand.

Karen Skalka had become addicted to crack cocaine and heroin shortly after her boyfriend (Joe's father) had left them and she had began selling her body to make money for food.

Though that money soon was swallowed up by her drugs and Joe had had to find ways of making money.

When Karen Skalka died Joe was 8 years old, and was already on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar.

Joe had the fortune of having the powers of telekinesis, invisibility, and telepathic distortion and manipulation.

So it was easy for him to start a powerful and elite team of what he liked to call 'snatchers'.

Basically, Joe was the head of one of the most powerful guilds of thieves.

It started with robbing the local corner store, so he could have something for dinner.

And it escalated to robbing high security places like the Louvre, the U.S. national treasury, and the British crown jewels.

Though he gave the 'priceless artifacts' back, usually a week later.

Joe was sitting high (literally, he took after his mom, he supposed, but only the good kind of drugs) and mighty, until Karen Shalka's condition worsened.

Joe had tried over the years to put his mother through rehab, but she always escaped, and when she finally crashed he put her in the hospital, under the best doctors.

Joe remembers that when his mother looked at him well she was dying, she didn't recongnize him, didn't even remember that she had a son.

That was okay though, Joe hadn't had a mother for years.

He didn't cry as her heart flatlined, he'd seen enough death and violence in his short life.

Though he tried to avoid it, Joe knew some of his underlings enjoyed torturing and beating and killing, and well, if they got him what he wanted Joe turned a blind eye.

* * *

 

A year after Karen Shalka was dead and buried Joe celebrated his 9th birthday.

Alone.

In his penthouse suite, with all the toys any child could want, and a large bowl of weed. 

Halfway through the weed, when Joe had long since lost interest in most of the toys, his front door was knocked down.

Joe wondered how whoever was coming got past his 'whammied' bodyguards, as he sat on his plush leather couch.

Joe was trying to remember what he should do in a situation like this through the nice fog in his mind when a tall, lean, middle aged, brunette woman walked in wearing a business suit and dark sunglasses. 

"Joseph Abraham Shalka?" 

She stepped over to him, heels clacking on the marble floors. 

"Who wants to know?"

She smiled, Joe had thought her face was stuck before.

"I'm Agent Trohman, from S.H.I.E.L.D., I've come to give you an option"

Joe stared at her, mouth open, dumbly.

"Shield? What the fuck is that?"

He asked, voice lacking the aggression with the swear.

Agent Trohman chuckled.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division"

Joe was only slightly less confused.

"Government."

This time his voice was colored with aggression.

"Yes, Mr. Shalka, may I sit?"

She sat before he could reply.

"Sure, why not? and it's just Joe."

"Very well, hello Joe, I'm May Trohman."

Joe nodded. 

"If you're from the government am I going to jail?"

Joe really didn't want to go to jail, and he figured if that was her plan he'd just mind 'whammy' her.

"That's one of the options."

Joe looked over curiously.

"And the others?"

"Rehabilitation."

"No."

Joe said quickly.

"Rehabilitation from your life of crime, not-" May waved a hand.

"Why would I? I like it."

"Do you? How old are you? 9, correct? Do have any friends Joe, friends your age to play with? It must be lonely.

Joe frowned. 

He didn't have any friends, his age or not.

"No, I'm fine"

He pouted.

"Are you?"

No, no he wasn't.

"Can you leave, I don't want you here."

Joe pushed Agent Trohman with his foot.

"No, you need to choose."

"Neither, go away!"

Agent Trohman didn't move an inch.

"Choice a) you'll be taken and kept in a special prison equipped for supes, like yourself. Choice b) you get a guardian, and get to live a normal life, as a normal child- without any criminal misdemeanors."

Joe huffed, and concentrated.

_"Or you could leave me alone and forget about me."_

He commanded.

Agent Trohman laughed.

She laughed!

"Joe, I'm afraid you're telepathic tricks won't work on me, all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are trained against and equipped with technology to combat telepathy."

Joe's stomach dropped. 

"I-I-I" 

He stuttered. 

"So option A or B?"

Agent Trohman asked.

Joe was shaking. 

"B"

Agent Trohman nodded. 

"I'm glad, Joe, now if you come with me, I'll take you to HQ so we can get you a new name and get you that normal life."

"What about my stuff?"

Joe asked, though he took her hand and followed her.

"Grab your personal belongings. Clothes and sentimental knick knacks. Everything in your residence that is a known stolen item will be returned courtesy of my co-workers"

Joe grumbled. 

He had worked hard to steal all of this!

But he did as instructed and followed Agent Trohman to a waiting car.

Once inside he asked quietly.

"Am I going to get a new mom?"

Agent Trohman looked over in surprise, then gulped. 

"Well, Joe, I was assigned to be your guardian and handler."

"Oh, well, um if you- I mean I don't need a mom, anyway."

"Joe Shalka... Joe Trohman? hmm.... It doesn't sound bad, does it?"

May looked down hopefully.

Joe shook his head.

"No, it sounds pretty good, actually."

May grinned.

"Yeah?"

Joe smirked. 

"Yeah, sounds like the name of a rock star!"


	2. Chapter 2

Joe has officially decided that being 16 sucks.  
High school also sucks.  
Having stupid hair, acne, and a lisp sucks.  
Having no friends sucks.  
Not being allowed to use his powers sucks.  
Not being allowed to smoke sucks.  
And currently Pete fucking Wentz sucks.  
It was 8:43 a.m. on a Wednesday and Joe was trying not to fall asleep and also pay some attention to Mrs. Davis' lecture, but he couldn't focus because the damn kid in front of him kept moving every goddamn second.  
And his fucking hair was distracting and how he was mumbling under his breath.  
Why the fuck was Pete Wentz even in his 2nd period class?  
He wasn't in Joe's grade.  
There were 6 minutes left in the class.  
Joe tried to concentrate.  
5 minutes.  
Pete was talking to himself faster now and he looked distressed.  
Joe was starting to feel concerned.  
Weird.  
"Well, looks like we finished early today class. Does anyone have questions?"  
Joe should ask, but he has a fucking lisp and he doesn't like to talk in class.  
So Joe focused his attention on Pete.  
Pete was staring at the wall to their right and whispering harshly.  
He looked like he hadn't slept in days.  
All of the sudden Pete just snapped  
"Fine, be that way"  
quietly and turned away from the wall.  
Joe sighed softly.  
He would probably regret this.  
"Hey man, something wrong?"  
The 's' got stuck a bit, but it got Pete to look at him.  
And he did, looking confused.  
"Um."  
Pete pointed a finger to his chest.  
"Are you asking me?"  
Joe huffed.  
"No, I'm asking Frank behind us."  
Pete looked past Joe and saw that 'Frank' was sleeping.  
When Pete looked back at him Joe raised an eyebrow.  
"Uh... yeah, I guess. You know most people don't ask me, anymore, right?"  
Joe pulled a face.  
"What?"  
Pete's face lit up a bit and a grin formed.  
"Dude, you don't know?"  
Joe shook his head.  
Pete composed himself, looking serious.  
"I see dead people."  
Then he ruined it by laughing.  
"Seriously though, dude, I talk to ghosts, it's an ability."  
'Oh that makes sense. Also, ew, ghosts'  
Joe thought.  
"Ah, okay, cool man, but like you okay?"  
Pete nodded.  
"Ghosts are really depressed, and just ugh, sometimes. And it's just sad."  
Joe shrugged.  
"Sure, makes sense."  
"What's your name?"  
"Joe"  
Pete grinned.  
"Nice to meet ya, Joe. I'm Pete, and now we're friends."  
The bell rang and Pete took off before Joe could say anything.


	3. Chapter 3

Being friends with Pete Wentz was easier than people made it out to be.

You just had to be there and roll with it all.

Pete didn't have many other friends, besides Joe,- there was Andy, who seemed cool, but he didn't go to their school.

Joe often wondered why Pete had become friends with him.

Pete did, however, have plenty of acquaintances.

Pete was a social creature, after all he was an empath.

Pete had told him early on in their friendship that he wasn't always the best at reading people's emotions because he would shut everything out just so he could breathe.

He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when he was younger, Pete told him.

No one else in his family had any history of mental illnesses.

Pete said that the doctors were pretty sure it was thanks to his empathic abilities- how he could sense emotions of people and emotions left on objects.

And the fact that he was a medium -- well there wasn't anything else to say about that.

 

Actually, being friends with Pete Wentz was great.

He had an awesome taste in music and could play bass guitar.

Joe finally had a friend in high school, something that May was delighted about.

* * *

 

Then Joe met Patrick.

Patrick was.... different.

Joe had dealt with many kinds of people when he was younger, and he was good at reading the general personality of a person.

There was something about Patrick Stumph.

But it didn't change the fact that Patrick was an awesome little dude.

He knew music, good music, and he was batshit talented, too.

And he somehow convinced Patrick to (at least think about) this new band thing Pete and he were working on.

Patrick said he was a drummer, and well it was only Joe on guitar and Pete screaming and playing bass. 

So Joe convinced Pete to meet Patrick.

Patrick's house was a 10 minute drive from Joe's and Patrick had a basement where he practiced, so Pete was driving and Joe was picking at his nails nervously in the passenger seat. 

"You said this kid is a good drummer?"

Pete was in a bit of a mood, Joe had learned long ago not to ask why.

"Yep."

"Are you sure he wants to play in a band with m- us?"

"If you're talking about the whole ability thing, then yeah, I mean I don't see why not."

"Does...."

"Patrick"

"Right, does Patrick have any abilities?"

Joe shrugged.

"I didn't ask."

Having abilities was a pretty common thing though.

"This the right address?"

Pete asked as he parked on the side of the street.

"Yep"

The two of them walked up to the door, noticing that there were no cars in the drive-way, but some lights were on.

Pete was about to knock when the door opened to reveal Patrick, wearing an oversized hoodie, shorts, and huge tinted glasses.

Pete awkwardly lowered his fist.

"Hey, Patrick?"

Joe waved.

"Hey, come in."

Patrick stepped back and adjusted his glasses. 

* * *

Patrick really liked Joe. 

Joe knew music, though he didn't really appreciate Prince.

But Patrick almost hadn't approached him at Borders.

Joe Trohman had a very strange aura.

 

Not that Patrick was looking for it, his parents would kill him if they knew he was using his abilities.

Though he really had little control over his enhanced vision, unlike his shifting or "sirenship".

So Joe's aura was strange, nothing to suggest he was harmful, though, so Patrick had talked to him.

* * *

 

 

Once Pete and Joe were inside, Patrick shut the door and led them to the basement.

The entire house was dark and silent.

"So, pretty cool glasses, I didn't know you wore them."

Joe said, sitting on the couch and pulling Pete away from the wall of guitars.

"Technically I don't need them, my eyes are just bastards."

Patrick fiddled with his drum kit.

Pete snorted.

"That's usually why people need glasses, dude, bad eyesight."

Patrick rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh my eyesight's fine."

Joe was confused and so was Pete.

"Then why are you wearing those?"

Patrick hesitated then said in a low voice

"I have enhanced vision."

"As like an ability?"

Pete said enthusiastically. 

Patrick nodded unenthusiastically, twirling a drumstick.

"So..."

Patrick sighed.

"I can see things normal people can't- like auras, and if someone is invisible, and through thin walls and traces of people that have been in the room before. And a sort of side-effect is that I have synesthesia, but I work with it."

Pete looked curious.

"What do you mean... like what's synthesia?"

Patrick pursed his lips.

"I can see sounds as colors."

"Dude that's awesome!"

Pete was now giddy.

Joe was still stuck on the fact that Patrick could see invisible people-Joe.

"No, it isn't."

Patrick said a little harshly.

"Oh come on, how isn't it?"

"Pete."

Joe chimed in.

"I'm sure some people find your empathy cool, but you don't exactly like it."

Patrick nodded.

"Dude"

He addressed Pete.

"I like listening to and playing music. So it kinda hurts your head after a bit if you see all the fucking colors."

Pete frowned.

"Right, sorry"

"It's fine"

"Why don't you go to like a center and learn how to like block it out, I did, with like--- I'm a medium and an empath, and Joe's got invisibility and telekinesis and some persuasion, like you could probably do something..."

"My family isn't very.... open and accepting with abilities."

The three sat in silence, Pete and Joe not knowing what to say.

"Should I play something??"

Patrick asked, effectively ending that part of the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end for now.... may continue  
> sorry


End file.
